Katie Lamb had a story in the May 11 Missourian that the Ochs-Shivelbine house is slated for demolition to make room for a planned Greek Village. The Greystone Estate, located next to the doomed Ochs-Shivelbine home on North Sprigg, was demolished in March.
I’ve given up railing against the university’s penchant for treating buildings with benign neglect until they have an excuse to tear them down.
One down, one to go
Here’s a gallery of photos I took of Ochs-Shivelbine shortly after the Greystone was reduced to rubble. Click on any photo to make it larger, then use your arrow keys to move through the gallery.
When I headed out to get something to eat tonight, a big orange moon was just clearing the trees. I pulled off long enough to snap off a couple frames of the moon, but it didn’t have a very interesting background, so I let my tummy make the decision to keep going. (You can click on the photos to make them larger.)
I knew from experience that if you aren’t in position to shoot the golden orb in relation to a landmark, forget it: you’re never going to get there in time.
Traffic light at Mount Auburn Road
I putzed around in a fast food joint waiting for my order to come up, and wasn’t disappointed to see that the moon wasn’t visible when I left the parking lot. I didn’t really want to feel guilty about not making another full moon photo.
The darned satellite was waiting for me, thought, when I hit the traffic signal at Mount Auburn Road. Fortunately, I caught the light when my lane was stopped. I shot it with the red light, too, but the green arrow seemed to work better for me.
These won’t go down as my favorite moon shots, but they were too good to pass up.
I suspect one or two of my readers will grouse again this year, “Why are you bringing up Kent State? It’s ancient history.”
Dean Kahler has a good answer for that: “History will hurt you if you don’t learn about it. It’s important that you learn about it, and it’s important that you don’t forget about it so you don’t repeat it.”
Dean was one of nine students injured by National Guard gunfire on May 4, 1970, at Kent State University in Ohio. He was a first-quarter freshman, a farm boy from near Canton who was a conscientious objector because of his religion. He had read about demonstrations in the newspapers and national news magazines. “As a farm boy, you don’t get a chance to go to protests,” he said, ” because the cows have to be milked.”
Classes were supposed to be held as normal on May 4, so Dean decided to drive onto his campus to see what was going on. He was in the parking lot behind him in this photo, 300 feet away from the closest National Guardsman, when he saw them turn “with their deliberate motion.”
When he saw them turn, “I knew they were shooting.” He dropped to the ground because there was nowhere to run to and no cover for him.
Like when you pith a frog
[Watch the video to hear Dean tell about the shooting in his own words.]
“I knew I had been shot because it felt like a bee sting. I knew immediately because my legs got real tight, then they relaxed just like in zoology class when you pith a frog,” he said. He never walked again, but he has turned into a highly competitive wheelchair athlete.
After the shooting stopped, he called out to see if there were any Boy Scouts around who could turn him over. “The only thought that came into my head was if I was turned over, would I bleed more internally than externally? I thought (shrugs shoulders) there’s a 50 / 50 chance that you’re going to die one way or the other. I knew I might die. I had a really good chance of dying, so I wanted to see the sky, the sun, leaves, peoples faces. I didn’t want to be eating grass when I died.”
Dean and my old publisher
I was honored that Dean drove down from the Canton area for the opening of the Athens County Historical Society’s exhibit The Sky Has Fallen that contained scores of my photos. Dean, who was a well-regarded Athens county commissioner for eight years, is talking with Kenner Bush, my old publisher at The Athens Messenger.
Curator Jessica and I met Dean when we went up to the Kent State May 4 Visitors Center to talk about how the historical society’s museum could work with the visitor center on future exhibits about the protest era. I thought he was just a helpful volunteer until it became obvious that he had more than book knowledge about what happened that day.
The man who prevented a massacre
The Center had one of the most powerful videos I’ve ever seen anywhere. When they played the sound of the gunfire, I lost it. That was followed by a clip of professor who probably prevented a massacre. He stood between the guard and the students and begged the students to sit down. When the situation somewhat stabilized, the students took off in different directions “so that someone would be alive to tell the story.”
So, how long am I going to ride this story. Probably every May 4, just like my old chief photographer, John J. Lopinot will send me a message that just says, “Never Forget.”
I know the barge is working its way south just north of Cairo, but I’m not exactly sure where it was when I shot it last fall.
Google Earth makes it look like it might be in the vicinity of Dogtooth Island and Sliding Towhead, although it COULD also be near Buffalo Island. Like always, you can click on it to make it larger.
Katie Lamb had a story in the May 11 Missourian that the Ochs-Shivelbine house is slated for demolition to make room for a planned Greek Village. The Greystone Estate, located next to the doomed Ochs-Shivelbine home on North Sprigg, was demolished in March.
